


Unwanted

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abortion, Bittersweet Ending, Blood Magic, Body Dysphoria, Dark Humor, Homophobia, M/M, Mind Control, Mpreg, Pregnancy, cisnormativity, dark but not grim, internalized body shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halward Pavus didn't try to make Dorian get married, he made Dorian capable of producing the Pavus heir himself. Dorian doesn't take it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwanted

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DA Kinkmeme prompt:
> 
> _Dorian becomes pregnant, but doesn't want to keep it. On the other hand, his LI is incredibly excited to become a father and can't wait to make a family with Dorian._
> 
> _Dorian can be pregnant under any circumstance that A!A chooses; trans man Dorian, all mages can get pregnant, bloodmagic, etc._

Afterward it seemed blindingly obvious but at the time who would suspect that a man could be pregnant if he wasn’t like Krem?

From the timing, there was only one night it could have been. After Dorian had vented at Trevelyan about _physically walking in the Fade_ they had had sex. Not on the way back to Skyhold, and not in the following three weeks as they trekked all over the Emprise du Lion.

They’d returned to Skyhold exhausted and with still more to do. The bags under Dorian’s eyes were the color of plums and seemed big enough to fit his wardrobe into. Trevelyan had fallen asleep beside him, taking advantage of Dorian’s fatigue to get some quality cuddling without complaint.

They woke up sick; mildly feverish and vomiting over every little thing. Later, when they _knew_ , the healer explained about sympathy symptoms. The way being around a pregnancy could cause others to experience the quirks of the body adjusting to a baby.

At the time, they were hot and cranky and on each other’s nerves. Voices were raised. Doors were slammed. Apologies were tearful.

After a week or two, Trevelyan’s symptoms tapered off. He put cool cloths on the back of Dorian’s neck when he woke up in the middle of the night to vomit. He listened while the healers insisted they could find nothing wrong and gave Dorian something to settle his stomach.

And eventually that passed too. But things didn’t go back to normal. Dorian remained both overheated and easily chilled. His appetite increased and his waistline began to thicken. Not much at first. Trevelyan only noticed because the waistband of Dorian’s trousers began to leave red marks. And there was the occasional nosebleed.

All in all, not normal but bearable. For a time.

*

In the forest, chasing after Hakkonites, Dorian put his foot down on the tree just wrong and it felt like the whole world spun around him. Before he was finished flinching, Trevelyan’s arm was around him, holding him close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Dorian cleared his throat and tried to pretend that nothing untoward had happened. “I’m fine, just lost my balance.” It was something that was beginning to be a hazard on the stairs but after the last few months, he didn’t want to be fussed over. And they’d defeated Corypheus. Trevelyan didn’t need all hands in the field anymore. He might leave Dorian behind.

Trevelyan stared into Dorian’s face for a long moment before sighing. “Let’s head back to camp for the night.”

“We have hours of daylight left,” Dorian protested.

“I think I need the staff that does extra fire damage. The monsters here are so different from the ones we’ve seen before. Do you think there’s something about this valley in particular?” Trevelyan let go of Dorian slowly.

Allowing himself to be drawn into a theoretical discussion of the Fade’s interaction with the wildlife and what they’d seen of Avvar customs, Dorian held himself as straight as he could but stayed closer to Trevelyan than he might ordinarily have.

Dorian avoided the campfire that night, the smell of roasting meat making him feel ill. He waited inside the tent he shared with Trevelyan, feeling bloated and awkward and like he would murder a man for some decent candied dates. His skin felt too small and even though he had a book, his mind kept drifting.

“I brought dinner if you’re up to it,” Trevelyan said, waving some bread and cheese with one hand.

“Thank you,” Dorian said politely, not wanting to admit the yawning hole in his gut. He _wanted_ dates but the bread and cheese disappeared faster than he would have thought. He realized Trevelyan was watching him and frowning. Shifting uncomfortably he tried to hold himself so that his middle was in shadow. “Yes?”

Trevelyan shook himself and smiled at Dorian. “It’s good to see you feeling better. You got so thin while you were ill.”

Dorian folded his hands together to keep from touching his belly. “Your admiration is always appreciated.”

Scooting over, Trevelyan tried to put his arm around Dorian’s waist. It wasn’t a conscious thought, even a vain one. Dorian shoved Trevelyan away with a feeling wrongness. “I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly. “I’m… ticklish.” That wasn’t the right word but it was the closest he knew.

“It’s fine,” Trevelyan said, putting his hand on Dorian’s arm. A frown pinched his forehead. “Do you need some space for a bit?”

“You don’t have to coddle me. I’m not an invalid.” Dorian snapped. He regretted it the moment he saw Trevelyan’s eyes widen with hurt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m awful. Can we- Yes, go be the Inquisitor, Savior of Thedas. I’ll be here. It will be fine.”

With one last, wary look, Trevelyan left Dorian alone in a tent in a tree. Dorian sighed and finally allowed his hand to rest on his middle, rubbing it absently. He decided the best thing to do would be to have a nap. He couldn’t yell at anyone or burst into tears if he was asleep.

He woke up when Trevelyan joined him, snuggling into the Herald’s strength. “Amatus,” he murmured softly and hoped that it was enough.

*

In the pale early morning light, Trevelyan woke to see Dorian watching his reflection in one of the windows that showed the sprawling range of the Frostbacks. Slitting his eyes, he watched Dorian try to suck in the belly that Trevelyan felt had grown almost overnight. One day Dorian had been a little thicker than usual and the next he had a round belly that seemed to give him some difficulty with steering.

The rest of him seemed to be swelling at a lesser pace. Not getting fat- or not just getting fat, Trevelyan amended the thought, watching Dorian’s backside. Dorian’s feet and ankles were filled with fluid and the healers continued to insist that everything was fine. According to them and their Spirits, Dorian was the picture of health.

Trevelyan waited until Dorian moved on to putting on his braes to fully open his eyes. “Breakfast?” he asked cheerfully.

Dorian tugged hard on the laces and scowled. “I really should do something. Nothing fits.”

Trevelyan made a thoughtful noise. “You’ve said that every morning since we got back to Skyhold.”

Squawking in offense, Dorian folded his arms and glared at Trevelyan.

“I’m not criticizing. Truly.” Trevelyan held up his hands, palms forward. “Do you feel out of control when you eat? Could you be under some sort of enchantment?”

“An enchantment to make me-” Dorian gestured expansively at his abdomen. “Whoever designed it would make a fortune selling it in Tevinter as a means to embarrass rivals.” He paused, ire fading under thought. “I feel hungry. And sometimes I feel this- this fluttering.” He gently put both hands on his stomach. “Like nerves or indigestion but not. Like- I don’t know.” He sighed unhappily. “My back hurts. My feet hurt. My hips hurt. I don’t really want to to do anything but sleep, eat, and urinate four times a day.”

“What about drink?” Trevelyan asked cautiously.

“Hm?” Dorian looked puzzled.

“Beer. Wine. Spirits.”

“Oh,” Dorian’s eyes widened. “I haven’t thought about it in… months. That is so odd.”

“Josephine thanked me for talking to you about taking bottles from the wine cellar.” Trevelyan said mildly.

“Hmph. Of course I get a beer belly when I _stop_ drinking beer. Just my luck.” Dorian moved back toward the bed, swaying from one leg to the next instead of balancing between the two which might have accounted for the pain in his hips.

“How do you feel about a foot rub and then we see about breakfast?” Trevelyan asked, standing and walking over to cup Dorian’s face with one hand. “And then we take the morning for ourselves.” He leaned over and kissed Dorian.

Dorian didn’t just lean into the kiss, he responded with his whole body, hands gripping Trevelyan’s shoulders. “Sex now. Foot rub. Sex. Breakfast. Sex.”

He wasn’t too heavy for Trevelyan to swing him onto the bed but he was too close to Trevelyan’s height for that not to end with a bruise or five. He compromised and by the time Dorian was on his front, moaning into the pillow, Trevelyan was ready. “Trying to wear me out?” he asked as he applied lube.

“Not my fault if you can’t keep up with a virile Vint,” Dorian muttered.

“You smell different.”

“Had to stop using scent. Gave me headaches.” Dorian grunted.

“I love you,” Trevelyan whispered in Dorian’s ear. He resolved to ask the healers about the possibility of Dorian being under some kind of enchantment that while not making him unhealthy, was changing something the Spirits weren’t noticing.

*

Dorian knew he was being ridiculous. Even as a toddler he would never have behaved this way. But he couldn’t find a way to stop crying. Not the quiet crying he’d learned to do during his first terms in the Circle so that none of the other boys would hear. These were full sobs that felt like they were ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

He could hear Trevelyan come up the stairs but he couldn’t stop himself. He knew he should either tell the Inquisitor he was alright or to leave but instead he kept crying. He continued even as he heard Trevelyan’s hesitant footsteps across the bedroom floor. Up until the last minute, he thought he was going to push the man away when he touched Dorian. Instead, he found himself burrowing against Trevelyan’s side, still sobbing helplessly.

Trevelyan kissed Dorian’s temple and slid his arm around Dorian’s shoulders, holding him close. He remained seated on the bed next to Dorian for a long moment while Dorian soaked his shirt. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Trevelyan asked after Dorian had trailed off into sniffles.

“I have stretch marks.” The sobs broke loose again.

Rocking them both gently, Trevelyan hummed tunelessly.

“I want to know what’s happening. I want it to stop.” Dorian said when he could speak again.

“I know,” Trevelyan said softly. “I want it to stop too.”

*

Reading in the library was still an enjoyable activity but Dorian had found that increasingly, he had trouble focusing. And he had to go all the way down the stairs to find a place to urinate. It was much easier to take a book into the garden and enjoy what little sun Skyhold received. The difficulty with that strategy was that he kept falling asleep.

“Ser,” a voice called softly.

He blinked the world into sharper focus. “Hm?” He looked up to see one of the Scouts. Jim he thought the man’s name might be.

“The Inquisitor and your mother are waiting in the mages’ tower.”

“My mother.” Dorian stood up rapidly, his ears ringing. “In the heart of southern politics? That can’t be right.”

“I know only what I’m told, ser.”

Dorian hurried as quickly as he could. Once he was outside the door, he took a moment to catch his breath and rub the small of his back. He entered the tower with as much dignity as he could find.

“Dorian,” his mother smiled at him. Trevelyan was glowering at her. “I was just asking to see you. I heard you’ve been unwell.” Her eyes obviously traveled downward. “And I see-”

“Your mother says she has news we need to hear,” Trevelyan cut in. “If you want me to remove her from Skyhold, I’m sure I can find a reason.”

“No, you very much want to hear what I have to say. But someplace more discreet.” Dorian’s mother sniffed.

“If she’s here, it’s for a reason.” Dorian said over his mother’s hairstyle. “She wouldn’t risk ruining the family name by coming here otherwise.”

“Time in the south hasn’t dulled your grasp of the situation.”

“Your lessons are invaluable as always, Mother.” Dorian’s tone was sharp and his smile was sweet. 

“We can move this to my rooms.” Trevelyan cut in.

“ _Me_ in your rooms?” Dorian’s mother asked, raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I think everyone here already knows the manner of my relationship with the Inquisitor.” Dorian rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure.” It was remarkable how much disapproval his mother could pack into two words.

“It’s this way,” Trevelyan took Dorian’s arm as they took their conversation up multiple flights of stairs.

Dorian wanted to throw off Trevelyan’s help but it really was a difficult climb for him. He felt like a bloated, sweaty mess by the time they reached safety. He sat without waiting for either of them, grateful to get off his feet.

His mother stalked through the room, openly judging the Inquisitor’s taste. She paused in front of a window, staring out at the Frostbacks. “There’s no easy way to say this. Dorian, you’re pregnant.”

He stopped, keenly aware that he had one hand balanced against his middle.

“How?” Trevelyan asked calmly, his eyes cold.

“Blood magic. How else?” His mother said, turning back to them. “I was not party to this. My husband had a brilliant idea. What if instead of trying to coerce you into marrying the Herathinos girl, he made you capable of conceiving a Pavus heir?”

“He didn’t do the ritual. I escaped.” Dorian insisted.

“He altered your memory. When he explained what he’d done, you panicked. He thought he could wipe enough of it that you would calm down and he’d be able to explain it to you. Then you went south. And I’m sure his attempt at an explanation here was just as competent as the rest of this.”

Dorian remembered the way he and Trevelyan had left the tavern. “Yes,” he said shortly.

“I don’t know many specifics. You’ll need a spirit healer to sort it all out.” She waved a hand negligently. 

“We’ve been seeing healers pretty regularly. They keep insisting nothing is wrong, he’s in perfect health. It’s completely normal for a man to develop nosebleeds, headaches-”

“I have been pregnant, you may recall.” His mother’s voice was a cold knife. “I did my part.”

“Did he alter my mind?” Dorian asked, ashamed at the strain in his voice.

“He said there was a suggestion. Once pregnant, you wouldn’t indulge in habits that would accidentally harm the child.” The look she gave him made him uncomfortably aware of his size. “If the spirit healers say you’re healthy, it’s probably been working.” Her look became strangely cloudy. “Giving up wine was the most difficult part.”

“No, we are not having a moment,” Dorian said harshly.

“At least you chose a human mage without our guidance. And he’s a nobleman. His position with the Inquisition did have many people suspicious but his actions have shown that he is not of the Southern Chantry. The child will probably be attractive. He’s an acceptable choice.”

“Out,” Trevelyan said. “You’ll give him an apoplexy.”

Numbly, Dorian realized she was leaving. Trevelyan had actually made her leave him alone.

Trevelyan took Dorian’s hands in his. “We’ll talk to the healers. Now we know what they’re looking for. We don’t have to take her word for it.”

“Thank you.” Tears stung Dorian’s eyes. He was selfishly grateful Trevelyan didn’t comment on them.

*

“It looks like the mage who did this asked a Spirit to alter your anatomy,” the healer’s hands were cold. “There was a major oversight. You have a womb but no good way of getting the baby out that I can find.”

“So there’s definitely a baby then?” Trevelyan asked. The hope in his voice stabbed Dorian in the heart. 

“Oh, yes. Both the baby and mo- father are perfectly healthy.”

“Why is taking the stairs so hard?” Dorian asked, trying to avoid the panic he could feel clawing at the edges of his mind.

“A woman’s hips form a basket. Their connection with the spine is subtly different. Their center of gravity is here.” The healer touched Dorian’s navel gently. “As a man, your center of gravity is up here. Your hips aren’t structured with carrying this kind of burden in mind. Add to that, pregnancy causes the joints to become looser. Stairs require a great deal of balancing.”

“How much longer?” Dorian asked a little desperately.

“You are two to four weeks from the end of your second trimester. As many as four months more or as little as three.”

The image of himself continuing to get bigger and continuing to hurt and continuing to swing wildly from mood to mood tied Dorian’s stomach in knots. “As little as that?” he repeated faintly.

Trevelyan smiled at Dorian. “We have a child.”

Dorian made himself smile back. He kissed Trevelyan like it could drown out the screaming in the back of his head.

*

Cassandra sat beside Dorian in the garden. He looked up with a smile, trying to pretend his eyes weren’t red and puffy with crying. “Seeker! How good to see you.”

“I heard you had some news.” Cassandra said neutrally. “I just happened to be in the area, on my way from Val Royeaux to the Free Marches.” She smiled slightly. “Should I have brought- Ah.”

“The good news is I’m not dying.”

“Not-”

“My father has won. His legacy is intact.” Dorian spat each word bitterly. “Another generation of House Pavus marches into the world. All it took was asking a demon to make me able bear children. Which it took literally. They need to cut me open to get this- this- this _thing_ out.” He kept his voice low even though the garden was empty. Everyone had duties elsewhere that time of day.

“Does the Inquisitor know you feel this way?”

“I don’t know.” Dorian deflated and shrank in on himself, tears threatening again. He wiped angrily at his eyes, hating everything about the experience.

Cassandra watched him, not offering an opinion though he had expected her to tell him to cherish the gift of being able to have a child despite his deviance. It occurred to him distantly that Cassandra was never going to have children.

“He’s so happy. He wants this child. He already loves him or her. And I-” Dorian looked Cassandra in the face. “I want my body back. I don’t want to wake up every morning and see this.”

“The child will be born eventually.” Cassandra said almost gently.

“In three months or so. Until then, I keep-” He made a raspberry sound and gestured at his body. “Until then, none of this mine. It’s the baby’s. It’s my father’s. Mother is willing to accept my choice of father. Trevelyan is happy. And then, when he or she is born.” Dorian shuddered. “It’ll be my parents’ grandchild. What if I can’t stop seeing it like this? What if I’m wiping its ass and all I see are the nosebleeds and headaches and hemorrhoids. What if all I see is my father?” He’d stopped trying to keep the tears from falling down his face.

“Tell Trevelyan you feel this way. He deserves to know.” Cassandra said.

“You’re not going to tell me every child is a Gift sent by the Maker?”

“Your Imperial father used blood magic to do something profoundly unnatural to you. You are a victim. The Maker knows whether this child was sent to be a silver lining to your violation. I do not. If you don’t think so and you are willing to stand before the Maker and say that, it is your right.”

He searched her eyes for pity and on finding none, nodded. Sniffing, he took a deep breath and wiped his face with a handkerchief. “Do you want to read this one? It’s a right tearjerker but it’s better than that Swords & Shields rot.”

*

“I have something important to discuss with you, amatus.” Dorian said over dinner. He’d already inhaled a portion and was picking at a second helping of beans.

Trevelyan gave him a cautious look. “What about?”

“The baby. I-” He swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can keep it.”

Looking like he’d been rabbit punched, Trevelyan set down his fork and knife. “Oh.”

“I’ve been thinking and if you want me to leave, I can be out of here day after tomorrow. I would prefer to have the procedure done here and have time to recover, of course, but I’ll understand if I need to have it done elsewhere.” Dorian said, staring fixedly at his plate.

“Is it the stairs? I can-”

“No, it’s not the bloody stairs!” Dorian burst out. “It’s the stretch marks and the sweating and the crying and having my father’s fucking heir growing inside me. It shouldn’t happen. It’s wrong! I don’t want to do this!” He realized he was crying again. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this.”

Trevelyan gave him a blank, panicked look and stood up. He began pacing and Dorian felt fear tightening chill fingers around his heart.

“You don’t want to do this,” Trevelyan paused to gesture at the air between them, “or you don’t want to do this?” He pointed at the baby.

Dorian silently gestured at his middle.

“Is it- Did I do-”

“No,” Dorian said hoarsely. “It’s not about you. It’s about me. If you want to say I’m selfish, go ahead. It won’t be the first time.”

Trevelyan stopped pacing. “Do you want to leave me?” He sounded plaintive and confused.

“No, I don’t think I do. I know it’s your child too but I’m the one-”

“I would like to have children.” Trevelyan interrupted. “In the Ostwick Circle, it would never have been allowed. I’ve never- I’ve never had the opportunity even if I had been willing to bed a woman to get one. If I- If in the future, not now obviously but eventually, if I wanted a child, would you leave me? Because maybe you should leave now if-”

“I don’t know.” Dorian said desperately. “I just know I need this to end.”

“Do you want to stay?” Trevelyan asked, pleading.

“More than anything, amatus. I just...”

“I would like to be a father but I’m not going to torture you to get there.” Trevelyan said after the silence had dragged on long enough to leave Dorian tasting bile. “And I’m not going to force you out. Dorian, I love you. I thought maybe you- I don’t know, maybe you were getting used to the idea now that it isn’t a sign of some mystery illness.”

“It’s a sign my father is still trying to own me.”

Trevelyan winced. “Yes, I suppose I can see that.”

“I’m going to request they remove all the organs my father added.”

There were tears in Trevelyan’s eyes but he nodded.

“They’re wrong. They don’t belong inside me. Andraste’s tits! Stop looking at me like that!”

“I’m sorry. I’m- I should go for a walk. Let me know when you plan to have it done. If you want me there, I will be.”

When Trevelyan crawled in to join him, Dorian woke up and snuggled into his warmth. “Amatus,” he murmured thickly and hoped it was enough.

*

“It’s done,” Trevelyan said softly, stroking Dorian’s hair. “You’re free.”

“What took a shit in my mouth?”

“The healer said to remind you that your body will take as long as six to eight weeks to get back to normal.”

“I got rid of your baby, why are you being so nice?”

“And that the drugs are making you unusually honest.” Trevelyan said briskly and then his expression softened. He kissed Dorian gently. “You are a passionate, intelligent man with no modesty and whether you can make babies or not, you’re who I want to wake up next to.” He touched Dorian’s chin gently with his thumb.

“Don’t deserve you,” Dorian’s eyes slid shut.

Trevelyan sighed heavily and placed his cheek against Dorian’s sternum. “It’s not about deserving, Dorian. That’s what your parents got wrong. If we do this, we’ll do better.”

“That’s a promise I can believe in.”


End file.
